


The Secret Ingredient

by mochawhip



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochawhip/pseuds/mochawhip
Summary: Green doesn't have any secrets, only because he has no one he can tell them to.In which Green writes his number on a to-go cup, and it gets taken by the wrong person. Barista/university AU.





	

A cafe is a calm and humble environment.

Calm and humble are two characteristics that Green tends to lack. Working here provides a balance for him against the chaos that is attending the top university in Viridian City. Riding on the perks of his family name didn't always mean fame and glory – immediate assumptions and overblown expectations tended to come first. He would get into the same university his grandfather taught at for decades, submitting the Oak name instead of his qualifications, and ride on the family's plentiful pension and research grants to cover the tuition fees and rent for the best penthouse in Viridian City.

In Green's defense, only part of this is true. He applies to the same university, but keeps his name as a subtle as possible on his submission forms (and that is an honorable effort, because Green is fully aware that his idea of subtlety has much room for growth). It's hard to deny family money covering most of his costs, but Green insists spending money will be earned on his own. And an apartment out in Viridian isn't _that_ unreasonable, but Green will make an exception for his own place, because having your own place is _cool_ and there is no room for compromising when it comes to Green Oak's _cool_ factor.

So he gets accepted to university on his own, moves into his apartment on his own, and starts looking for a job on his own. Working and studying are more than enough to keep him occupied, and that alone should be enough to fill all his needs.

He won't say he's lonely out here, because he's fairly sure he isn't. Someone would have said something by now if it seemed obvious on his face, he thinks, and any sign that he might be miserable can probably be blamed on the weather, seeing as it's the dead of winter and stupid levels of freezing throughout the day.

His one year anniversary as a barista is coming up, but Green barely needed a day of working in the cafe to realize one undeniable truth: sometimes there are remarkable customers, and sometimes there are not.

Green's been doing this long enough to determine which type a customer may be the second they step through the glass doors. Some take military-like steps to the counter immediately, desperate to order their morning joe as soon as possible, and some take their time once they're inside, adjusting their clothing or hair in an effort to look more presentable than they really need to be before ordering their drink of choice.

There's one in particular who fits a bit of both those types – a well-dressed gentleman who's brief but not pushy, willing to have a modest chat before grabbing his drink and going about his day. He seems focused, no-nonsense without being stiff, and looks _incredible_ in work trousers.

Green finds no problem appreciating all of these features about this particular customer. Lately he's been working on a plan, subtly titled _The Plan_ , to get this customer to appreciate all the nice features Green has to offer, beyond the ability to make a stellar latte. And the looks, of course, but Green figures (and hopes) this customer has already taken attentive note of this.

“One small coffee to go, please.”

“Sure thing.” So a fancy latte isn't happening today, unfortunately, but Green puts in all his effort to pour the finest cup of joe to date. He makes sure their fingers touch when he accepts the cash, which results in a coin being dropped by accident. The well-dressed customer places the coin in the tip jar anyway, so Green takes it as a small victory and opening for the next step to enacting the Plan.

Plenty of customers already show Green heaps of appreciation, and he won't protest the well-deserved attention, but some aren't especially appealing, and some he can't help but wonder how they manage to tie their own shoes in the morning.

And then there are people who should have never entered the premises in the first place. Like _this_ guy right now, who approaches the counter after the well-dressed gentleman leaves.

“What'll it be?”

The guy opens his mouth, closes it, then repeats the process a few more times before returning to staring at the cafe menu behind the counter. Green lets out a slow exhale, recognizing that kind of body language immediately. If Green has to make assumptions on the customers that come here, which he will and always has, the poor soul before him has never been in a proper cafe before, or at least one with more than just regular and decaf on the menu. If this is the case (which it is, because Green is almost _always_ right), most of the delicately-written options on the menu must look like absolute gibberish to the customer.

Several more seconds pass of him scanning the menu, seeming to find something of interest, then fading as the customer looks down to the next line. Green shifts his weight to one side to unsubtly peer past the man, hoping to see possibly literally anyone else waiting in line that he can skip to while his very confused guest debates the laws of the universe and which milk to select.

No one else is behind the man. Green exhales again, a bit more firmly this time, and places a hand on his hip.

“Should I come back?”

The curt question grabs the guy's attention, who rapidly glances at the menu a few more times before finally making his decision.

“The...iced coffee, please.”

Green instantly reaches for the hot cups, then pauses.

“Iced?”

“Yeah.”

“As in, cold? Ice cold?”

Green's vaguely aware he's babbling, but he'd like to see someone try _not_ to when it's the middle of winter and some lost airhead wants the most frigid drink available. The customer seems equally confused, though probably over being questioned on what he said instead of questioning the logic of a cold drink when the sun's barely been visible in two weeks.

“Y...es?”

Green stares hard, waiting for the punchline, the _gotcha_ moment, for one of his coworkers to pinch him and wake him up from dozing off in the middle of his break – but none of it happens. Just a lost young man, who probably meant to walk into a fast food chain but can't bring himself to leave, wanting his cold drink because who cares how frozen one's fingertips can get outside.

Green grits his teeth, feeling an icy shudder curl up his spine despite being indoors, and reaches for the cold cups.

“Alright, sure. One iced coffee, coming up.”

Green decides to forget about that customer's face, because as far as he's concerned, the guy won't be coming back once he turns into an icicle later that day.

 

\---

 

There are a few different routes Green can take to get home. Not all of them require walking by the local pet shop, but he tends to take this particular route on certain, unexplainable days.

The shop is owned by a man Green can only describe as a quirky local – full of good intentions with just a few loose marbles rolling around in the head. Bill has been running the place for years, barely changing the interior design or his messy hairstyle since the store's doors opened. Green can give the guy credit for consistency. There's always the colorful Open sign at the door, the tacky flooring with painted pawprints leading inside, and selected animals on display at the front windows. Green always stops there when a cat is displayed for the week.

She's been in the window display on and off for the past month. Green's seen kittens in the same window for two days at most before they're claimed and taken to new homes. He assumes being a few years older is what's keeping this one feline here longer.

She's not like many other cats he's seen, with a long brown coat, white paws and a white, fluffy chest. Her dark gold eyes watch the outdoor activity calmly, seemingly at ease despite traffic noises and energetic children prodding their palms against the window. Her puffy tail twitches upward at the tip every so often, seemingly as light as a feather.

Green pauses in front of her, as he always does when this specific cat is on display, watching between the store's glass window and her cage. She looks up at him a moment later, pupils widening as he blocks part of the outdoor light from her direction.

He hears her meow through the window once, and then her attention goes back to watching the roads.

It might be a little lonesome to be on her own in a cage, but Green thinks she seems independent and doesn't mind so much. He turns away silently and continues down the street alone.

 

\---

 

The Plan takes only five minutes to plot out with detailed step-by-step points. Disappointingly, Leaf still isn't convinced it'll work after ten minutes of additional explanation.

“What's wrong with it?”

“No, really, it's cute. It's exactly what I'd expect to see from someone in middle school.” Leaf leans forward on an elbow, tapping a finger on Green's notebook. “You forgot to carry a two.”

“Did n– crap.” Green grumbles while erasing the last two lines of his equation. He only accepts Leaf's academic assistance in the privacy of his apartment, because the great Green Oak doesn't need _help_ – he just needs a friendly associate to check his work and occasionally smack him across the arm to shape up.

Part of his reason for being in Viridian in the first place is Leaf. They're from the same town and in the same year, so Green feels confident to say they're basically the same, save for Leaf beating him down in math every time. It doesn't really count, because Green is making up for lost time from his unfocused childhood, and Leaf is actually studying math for a degree, which only partially paints how nuts she is.

“It'll be fine. He's not too talkative, but I can _feel_ the signs.”

“Oh, the silent type?” Leaf shoots him a thin smile. “Oh, right. That makes sense. You can't be with someone who _possibly_ talks more than you.”

They've always pushed each other, and it makes this city feel a little less empty, but Green's never been all that good at fooling her.

 

\---

 

It still takes him a few more weeks to finally implement the Plan.

In addition to working around class schedules and studying hours, the Plan also requires waiting for the well-dressed gentleman to show up in the shop, which doesn't happen until a Wednesday. Green immediately plants himself behind the counter, giving his hair a quick sweep to ensure it's still in its highly-praised style. His clothes are sharp, and he even went through the extra effort to brush his teeth after lunch (probably necessary either way, considering how much garlic was still reeking in his leftover noodles).

The man approaches the counter, and Green flashes a self-assured smile. It's a shame the man doesn't appear to notice, but he must be in a bit of a rush, as he orders the moment he approaches the counter.

“Latte, please. To go.”

“You got it.” Green picks up a cup, considers twirling it around his hand, then reconsiders after realizing he hasn't practiced trying that at all. “Day going alright?”

“Sure.” The man pulls his phone from his jacket to answer a call. Green shrugs and sets the cup aside, taking a few, quiet seconds to observe his future date from a safe distance of ten feet away.

“Are you still taking orders?”

“What?” Green snaps back to the cold, cruel world of reality, and finally notices the next person in line. The customer gives a hesitant wave, then stares into the endless void of the menu above the counter.

Green swallows, feeling a hint of garlic creep back up despite his furious teeth-scrubbing earlier. It's _that_ guy again, Mister Iced Coffee in the Dead of Winter, or Sir What is Weather and Why Should I Care. He's been coming in semi-regularly for the past month, and still somehow hasn't memorized the menu. Green glances back over to his machine, seeing the espresso just now starting to drip.

“Yeah, course. Place is still open, right?” The guy shrugs in response, and Green is only halfway able to resist rolling his eyes. He plucks a to-go cup from the stack next to the register, and grabs his pen. “Alright, what'll it be?”

“The...” The customer's eyes wander, slipping off the menu and going to the other to-go cup waiting next to the espresso machine. “What he's having.”

Green manages to stop himself in time from writing _iced coffee_ or _whatever_ on the cup. “A latte?”

“What?”

“A _latte_. It's–” Green bites his tongue and exhales slowly, realizing it's probably not worth explaining ratios of espresso to milk in drinks within the next ten seconds. “That guy's having a latte. You want that, too?”

“Oh.” A couple seconds pass as the customer thinks far too hard on it. Then he nods with a smile – a strangely bright and calm smile, and Green hurries to write down the order on the cup. “Yeah. Sure. One latte. To g–”

“Right on it,” Green interrupts, and he steps away from the cash register while his mood is still at reasonable levels.

Making two of the same drink in a row does save some effort, and Green makes the mental note to suggest to this customer the next time he comes in to order the same drink Green's already in the process of making. Cue impressed customer for the helpful tips, and as a result, more tips in the tip jar. God, he's good at what he does – good enough to make both drinks one after the other, cups sitting side by side to quickly pour in the shots and milk back to back.

The Plan is still in play, and Green ensures to add a special touch to one cup. He pops open his pen and carefully writes on the side of one cup, partially regretting it when he learns that writing on an already-filled cup is not as easy as writing on an empty cup. Still, he perseveres, and his phone number gets etched on the top half of one of the lattes.

He peeks over the top of his espresso machine, looking for his target. The well-dressed gentleman is unaware, tapping on his phone as he waits for his drink (and date with destiny. No, that's too corny, even for him). Green pops lids onto each drink, and delicately slides them onto the counter.

He takes a steadying breath, then calls out the orders. “Latte to go!”

To make it seem less like he's up to something, Green returns to the cash register rather than witness the man take his drink away. By the time Green looks back, one latte is gone, and the well-dressed man is stepping up to take the remaining latte. He doesn't look back as he exits the cafe, but Green is still able to sigh in relief.

A flawless plan well-executed. Now, time to play the waiting game.

 

\---

 

Green snorts awake, feeling drool in the corner of his mouth, his phone finishing its buzz beneath his palm. He wipes his mouth and squints at the bright screen, trying to read through the burning glare. He pats his nightstand for his glasses once the rest of his brain wakes up.

It's three in the morning, he notices, once he's able to see. Figures.

He squints again at the screen, reading whatever text whichever genius decided to send him at such a perfect hour in the morning.

_hi_

Green falls back to his drooled-over pillow, rubbing his eyes beneath his lenses with a groan. Of course it's just about the lamest message he could receive in the middle of the night.

He taps out a quick _Who is this?_ , or at least what he hopes is close enough to that statement when he's still half asleep. He rolls over onto his back and lets the phone rest against his stomach, thinking he'll just rest his eyes while he waits. The next buzz wakes him up with a start again.

_u wrote ur number on my coffee cup i thought. wrong number???_

The past day slowly comes back to Green, clearing from a haze of complicated orders and stinging his hand on the hot water tap. He sighs, relaxed for the most part. He _thought_ he had better taste than to be interested in someone too lazy to spell out even short words, but this'll do. As long as the guy doesn't pull out his library of elaborate text emotes or reveals himself to be a liberal arts major, Green can handle this.

_Oh yeah, that's me. Sorry, long day. So, interested in doing something? Sunday?_

It vaguely occurs to him that an actual introduction would be more proper, but it's what the guy gets for picking the dead of the night to talk. How is Green supposed to turn on his famous charm when he hasn't even had breakfast yet? The hasty plans don't seem to deter his future date, who responds a minute later.

_sunday is gr8. meet u outside cafe @ 12?_

_Sure. Got a name?_

_red. nice 2 meet u_

_Green. See you Sunday._

_c u_ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))

“Oh, _god_ ,” Green whispers, eyes stinging over reading the text face. He's definitely awake now.

 

\---

 

Green wakes with another jolt the next morning, just now realizing there's no way some other creature out there with two legs has a similar naming scheme.

It was a popular trend during the year he was born, sure, but Red? Really? Green stares aimlessly above the espresso machine, a million scenarios building up in his mind while the milk he's steaming scalds beyond use. Is it a fake name as a way to get closer to Green? Is the guy being sarcastic to get revenge for a potential incorrect order in the past? Is it actually a front to secretly woo Green away and then take his family's fortunes and fame when he's not looking?

His last remaining hope is that his date isn't also a liberal arts major.

There's also no telling if the guy even is a student like him. Red (if that really is his name) seems a bit older than that, and dresses in a way that doesn't scream _I wore what I think is my last set of questionably clean clothes._ But then why use the text emotes? Unless he's in denial about his actual age and thinks acting like a teenager is all the rage these days?

There was also no extra questioning about his family name or heritage – a relief in its own right, but still definitely suspicious.

Green burns three more milk servings that day, and another the next morning. By Friday, the paranoia settles into calm acceptance of his possible disastrous date.

By Sunday at noon, he's outside the cafe and standing within reasonable view from the front windows, in case his date really does end up being crazy and he needs eyewitnesses from the cafe when he's knocked unconscious and dragged away (all due to his looks and fame, no less, or how he assumes the morning papers will write it). By ten past noon, he's wondering if it is all a joke to get revenge for a bad order. He did ruin a lot of milk over the past week.

By eleven past, there's someone with a hat standing in front of him, just like that.

Green's first instinct is to step aside, in case this someone is taking an odd route towards the cafe that somehow crosses where Green is standing. The person watches him move, then also steps toward the same direction and raises a hand. How this person can see with his hat brim set that low over his face is an entirely different mystery.

“Hi.”

Green looks around for several moments until he's determined that the guy must be talking to him. The person is... _possibly_ someone he's seen before, now that he's really looking, and no barista can succeed without recognizing the regulars in his own shop, but...

“Hi?” Green squints, as though it'll help him decipher exactly who's in front of him. “Can I help you?”

There's another uncomfortable pause, and Green's starting to get that feeling he should've stayed in bed and slept past two in the afternoon like a real student. The guy scratches his cheek absentmindedly, then lifts up the brim of his hat to better reveal his face, staring back with...no, not that look–

“I'm Red.”

 

\---

 

A mixup of coffee orders is inevitable in this business. Between rushes and misinterpretations, someone is going to grab the wrong cup no matter how solid the system it is, or how incredible the barista is (and he _is_ an incredible barista). But it is _not_ fair for it to happen to Green in the worst way possible.

He should have known something was off that day, when this...Red guy, whoever, grabbed what Green thought his other far-better-dressed far-more-sane customer already took, customized with Green's exclusive phone number along the top. The lame text faces between their initial messages should have been his sign that the Plan exploded in his face in spectacular fashion.

Despite what rumors say, Green isn't _that_ much of a jerk. The guilt is enough to make him at least take the guy to a deli down the street, far away just enough from his own work establishment to avoid any chance of gossip spilling over into his shift tomorrow, and buy sandwiches for lunch.

It's simple, the place has no touch of high class, and Red seems absolutely content with his basic sandwich, as though he belongs in this kind of world.

And the guy's wearing a _hat_ on what he assumes is the first date. Green doesn't deserve this.

“Thanks,” Red says as they eat outside, already halfway through his meal while Green continues to pick at his own. “I come here for lunch when I can. They have good specials during the week.”

“Yeah,” Green says, solely for the sake of standard conversation. “So, uh, does that mean you're in the area a lot?”

“I go to the university.”

“Oh.” Green takes his first proper bite of his sandwich. Red being a fellow student makes more sense now, with the presumed age and thrown-together fashion sense. But no matter how much he stares, tapping into his barista powers of assuming everything about the person before him, few things immediately come to mind when trying to unravel Red. “Doing what?”

“Veterinary science.” Red shrugs and unwraps the second half of his sandwich. Green pauses mid-bite, taking a second to process that the guy didn't say anything having to do with _arts_ like he expected. He'll gratefully take that small blessing for today.

“That's...pretty cool. What're you gonna do with it?”

“Dunno. Maybe...something more with wildlife. Something where I can be outdoors.” Red pauses and stares down the street for a moment. “Sounds more interesting.”

“Oh.” Way more interesting than whatever liberal arts majors do, at least. Green manages a few bites of his sandwich, but it's only delaying the inevitable. He wraps up the rest of his lunch and clears his throat.

“Great. Well, uh, listen...” The guy's not even all that bad, a nagging part of his mind protests. “So there's kinda been a misunderstanding, which was really your fault anyway, and–”

“Oh, my turn, if you're done eating.” Red pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pockets and opens it up. “I wasn't sure if you thought of anything to do today, so I got paintball tickets if you want to go.”

“–We don't have to, if...” Green trails off as he eyes the paper, seeing a pair of printed-out tickets. He points one finger down to it. “Did you say paintball?”

“Yeah.” Red holds up the paper closer to Green's face, as though it'll help him see it better (it doesn't). “It'll be fun.”

Green's eyes cross as they struggle between staring at the tickets and beyond Red's shoulder, where freedom awaits if he just bails here and bolts down the street. It's a terrible idea. _All_ of this was a terrible idea, right from when he picked up a pen and scrawled his precious contact information on the side of a paper to-go cup.

“Okay, okay.” Green nudges down Red's hand before he pushes the paper any closer to his nose. “But I gotta warn you – I happen to be a champ at this. You're going _down._ ”

Red only gives a low smile in response.

 

\---

 

Green slams his back against a concrete wall, gasping for breath and feeling beads of sweat crawl down his cheek.

Dozens of potential shots were lost earlier, and he wouldn't be surprised if he's down to just one left. Green pats at his gun, wiping away splatters of paint that almost nailed him earlier. It's a shot he has to make count. The guy is _fast_ , and almost impossible to predict. Green thinks he might have gotten one hit on the arm, maybe another on the thigh, if he's estimating generously.

This is insane. Green _never_ loses, but it feels like he can't shake this guy off his heels, like a never-ending chase. He swallows dryly, throat burning, and pushes away from the wall, holding up his marker to – nothing up ahead.

A shadow silently catches him from behind and engulfs him whole.

“Gotcha.”

Gray paint splatters across his visor.

 

\---

 

Any plans to ditch the guy as soon as opportunity was present have long vanished from Green's mind, and even if he did remember, there's no way he's bailing on Red now without a thorough argument first.

“You cheated, didn't you?”

“How?”

“I don't know! Paid the employees to give you information on my location? Secretly have mind powers? You look like the type.”

Red couldn't possibly give him a flatter look. Green sighs harshly and tosses up his hands.

“Okay! Fine. I lost. You got me. Happy?”

“Yes.” There's that low smile back on Red's face, partly covered in shadow by the brim of his hat. “We should do it again.”

“Uh, _yeah_ , we are,” Green scoffs, sharply poking a finger in the center of Red's chest. “You're not getting away with winning for long.”

It's not until Green gets home, showers the last splatters of paint from his hair, and relaxes into bed that he jumps right back up and realizes he's basically accepted a second date.

 

\---

 

“Mind powers don't exist, Green.”

“Then how did he do it?” Green tugs at his hair, staring into the infinite abyss of his smoothie. “You have to admit, there's something fishy about him.”

“Mm-hmm.” Leaf slurps loudly from her straw, staring to the side in feigned disinterest. Green raises his foot to hit hers under the table, and wisely decides against it at the last second. Reflecting on past experience, the consequences of kicking her or scuffing her shoes are too dire. “Why didn't you separate the cups better in the first place to make sure this guy wouldn't take the wrong one by accident?”

That...is not a factor Green has thought about, and certainly not a misstep he's going to admit anytime soon. “You gonna help me or what?”

“Okay,” Leaf finally says, sounding exasperated as she releases the straw. “As crazy as this sounds, you _might_ have just had a nice date, and you were so charmed by how honest and easy-going this guy is that you naturally accepted a second date. Makes sense?”

Green chews on his own straw until it splits along the sides, thinking that argument over.

“Or,” he says, slamming down his cup, “I'll go on this second date and _prove_ to you it takes a whole lot more than that to charm me. He's not getting a third date.”

“Mm- _hmm_ ,” Leaf drones again. “You're buying me another smoothie when you lose.”

 

\---

 

Green has no clue how to top paintball for their second meeting – not date, _meeting_ , which he's calling it for the sake of sanity. Who starts off with paintball, anyway? How would he have assumed Green was into it whatsoever? An extensive background check or secret stalking for all these years?

The awful text emotes don't help his focus at all. Green wonders if it's not too unreasonable to suspect Red is doing it on purpose to keep him flustered.

Green swallows nervously and glances over at Red, who seems to be in his full element as they trek through the forest. A suggestion of hiking was the best he could manage, but Green surprised himself by remembering Red's mention of _outdoors_ , and hey, Green is always happy to prove he can listen sometimes and put two and two together.

Red pays particular attention to the birds and squirrels that scurry across their path, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of conversation. Green knows observing the wildlife must be out of habit from studying veterinary science, but he _knows_ people, and there's got to be a high chance that Red was that weird kid who took home whatever creatures he could grab and stuff in his pockets.

“What? No. Of course not.” Red frowns at him when Green asks.

“Just checking.” Green rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off. He bites back a follow up question about rabies shots.

They stop at a creek for lunch, sitting across fallen logs as they unpack sandwiches they picked up earlier. The tranquility of the forest reminds Green a little of his cafe, except there's no one he needs to impress out here. Red definitely does not count in the Must Be Impressed category, seeing as the amount of pickles stuffed in his sandwich is probably considered impressive to him.

Green finds himself picking at his sandwich again, going through mental hypotheticals as they quietly eat. A casual stroll through the local forest probably wouldn't have happened if his destined latte cup went to the well-dressed gentleman as intended.

“So,” he starts for the sake of breaking the silence, “you, uh, didn't really get to tell me too much about yourself. Last time.”

Red seems to consider that for a moment.“You didn't either.”

Green opens his mouth instinctively to protest, then stops himself because, well, that is true. “Yeah, well, I was _preoccupied_.”

“So was I.” Red's eyes narrow over the wrapper of his sandwich, and Green suddenly feels heat surge in his chest. “With beating you.”

“Is this what you really do on dates? Kick the ass of the guy you're with?” He squeezes his sandwich hard enough to make some mustard ooze out, the droplets thankfully hitting the forest floor and not over Green's favorite pair of boots. Destruction of his fashion, whether intentional or not, is an immediate deal breaker as far as he's concerned.

“I'm kidding.” Red shakes his head when Green grumbles out a _no you're not_. “Alright, I'll start. How do you do that leaf thing on the top of those lattes?”

“That better not be the biggest curiosity you have about me.” Green pokes Red in the shoulder. “And it takes _skill_ and other techniques that I'm not going into out here. Next question.”

Unbelievably, Red looks a little disappointed that he won't learn the secret of incredible latte art today. Green waves a hand, encouraging him to keep going, and regrets it when Red takes a bite of his sandwich first and _then_ asks the next question with his mouth half-full.

“Have you always worked as a barista?”

Green almost can't believe Red knows the actual term for it, and didn't go with something like _coffee drink man_. He leans his elbows on his knees and picks out an onion slice from his sandwich.

“I'm not actually a barista full-time. I'm at the university, too. In geology.”

It makes sense they haven't crossed paths before, now that he thinks about it, as the geology labs are on the opposite side of campus from veterinary science. Red's nose scrunches for several seconds as he ponders that over.

“You look at rocks?”

“What – okay, there's way more than that to it, thanks. Besides, rocks can tell you a lot.”

“Hmm.” Red points at the closest rock to them, resting along the edge of the creek. “What's that one saying right now?”

“Oh, yeah. _Hilarious_.” And because it's not Leaf, Green has full rights to kick his companion in the foot. “Lay off. It's way better than following the family tradition in genetics.”

“Family tradition?”

Green manages to snatch his lunch before he drops it in stupor. “Uh, yeah. Hello? Professor Oak? In genetics? You know, my grandpa?”

Red continues to stare as he munches on his meal, not blinking until the realization kicks in, which truly takes far too long in Green's opinion. “Oh.”

“That's it?” Green rubs his temple hard. “Are you serious?”

“I don't assume anything about anyone,” Red defends with a shrug.

Green snorts and rolls his eyes. “No kidding.”

“Sorry.” Green's pretty sure Red rolls his own eyes right back. “So you're his grandson. Does it make it hard sometimes?”

“What does?”

“Trying to study in the same place he taught at.”

Green stops halfway from bringing his barely-eaten sandwich up to his mouth. Red seems to have no problem staring right at him, eyes locked and waiting for a response. Green coughs and looks aside, trying to focus on anything else besides his sorta-date.

“I...guess. Sometimes.” He drags a finger through his hair and huffs out a laugh. “Some people can be real asses about it. But it's fine. I got there on my own, proved myself and everything.”

His throat feels scratchy when he swallows. There's a high chance Red is still boring holes into the side of his head, but Green doesn't want to look and find out.

“Anyway.” He sighs. “Last question.”

Red glances upward at the trees as he thinks. “Do you have any secrets?”

“Secrets?” Green finally takes a much-needed bite of his lunch. “Like...what, I stole a cookie in the middle of the night without telling Gramps? Nah, course not. What do I have to hide?”

Red's eyes drop to the log and the decaying leaves underneath. They don't make eye contact for the rest of the hike, but Green still offers another time to meet up.

 

\---

 

Green finds himself taking his secondary route past the pet shop more often in the next couple weeks. The brown cat is always in the display window when he does, watching the pedestrians and traffic cross by. Green stops in front and watches for a few minutes; sometimes the cat gives him a hello through the glass, and other times she keeps her attention on the rest of the outdoors or with grooming her paws.

Green hasn't told anyone he comes down this way sometimes. It's his secret route, all to his own, and he's fine with that.

 

\---

 

He stops promising free smoothies to Leaf once the fifth date passes. Green's not sure what to think about his situation just yet, or what _their_ situation is, but Red is unconventional, infuriating, and fascinating all at once.

Example: he still has CDs.

“That just – can't be _possible_ ,” Green says in genuine horror, half-melted ice cream in his mouth. With spring not too far away, he's more willing to accept Red's frequent suggestions for frozen treats.

“Why?” Red shrugs, nonchalant as ever as he stabs a spoon into his oversized sundae. “I still have a CD player.”

“Okay. No. This has to change.” Green sets down his cup and rubs his face. “We're backing up your music digitally. It's a thing people have been doing for years, trust me. It'll make you at _least_ two percent cooler.”

Red leans on his elbows, not exactly looking convinced. “I'm not taking them out of my apartment.”

Green chews on his tongue, thinking that over.

“Well, we'll just have to do it there, won't we?”

 

\---

 

Red has a rat.

A _pet_ rat.

Not a normal pet like a dog or cat. Even a snake would be cool. Birds, Green could tolerate. But no, it's a rat. A big, furry, oversized rodent.

“It's a chinchilla,” Red corrects, holding the – whatever in his palm.

“Did you sneeze just now?” Green watches the rodent climb up Red's arm and onto his shoulder. More importantly, chinchillas are still a thing? Unless the concept is as dated as Red's CD collection. “By the way, there seems to be a deformed squirrel on your shoulder. Thought you'd like to know.”

Red doesn't appear amused by the humor, which is a shame. He stares back with a frown, petting the thing carefully on the head. “His name is Pikachu.”

“You're not supposed to name every squirrel you pick up from the park.” Red's expression is too good to _not_ snicker at, so Green takes the opportunity to do so. “Alright, alright, so you've allowed a rat infestation to take over here. I've already accepted you for your weird tastes.”

“Just pet him. He's soft.” Red gathers the chinchilla from his shoulder, cupping him in his palms and supporting his back. His fur is a lot lighter from what Green thought chinchillas looked like, tinted with a wheatfield yellow hue. “Come on.”

Green slowly raises a hand, eying the creature in suspicion. It figures that a bizarre human being would have an equally bizarre choice in pet, and Green doesn't like the way those black, beady eyes focus on him. The thing's up to something, he knows it. But he continues to carefully reach out, fingers hovering hesitantly in front of the chinchilla's nose.

It perks up a bit in Red's palms, then leans forward to sniff at the closest finger. Green feels his shoulders ease; he doesn't know why he was so tense about the rodent in the first place.

And then the thing bites him.

 

\---

 

In a small uptick to Green's terrible luck, the creature bit him only on the tip of his middle finger. It gives Green an excellent excuse to flip Red off while displaying the bite, as a perfectly honest and gentle reminder.

“Pikachu only bit because he doesn't like you,” Red defends sourly, and, well, Green can't argue with that. He doesn't like the rodent either.

He feels ready to face Red again after a week, and while it's mostly because of a massive deadline for schoolwork, Green will admit it's also to really drive in his displeasure of Red's choice of pet. They meet for gelato and take their to-go cups to the benches behind the shop, where their only other company is a pair of birds in the trees.

“Do you have any pets?”

“Uh, no.” Green winces when one of the birds above lets out a fantastically shrill chirp. And Red _wants_ a career surrounded by natural delights like that. “Never have. Gramps didn't exactly trust me to take care of another living creature, I guess.”

He can only imagine why, reflecting on his less-than-humble childhood years. Red catches onto the implication, and he scoots closer on the bench until their knees bump against each other.

“Were you pretty good in school? Before university.”

Green almost misses the question, a little distracted with thoughts of secret routes and pets staring longingly out of shop windows.

“Not...really. I mean, school wasn't hard. I just didn't see the point, you know?” He rubs an eye and laughs. Sometimes it's almost frightfully easy to talk like this once Red gets him going. “Got in trouble a few times. Surprise, I know. I got suspended for a couple days back in middle school. Socked a kid right in the face. I mean, he was annoying anyway, so he kinda deserved it, but...yeah.”

Red doesn't respond, so Green takes it as a sign to keep going.

“I shaped up a bit in high school. Well, not at first. Still had plenty of brawls in the schoolyard, but just took a while to figure myself out. Put in more effort to get good grades, told Gramps I actually wanted to do something with my life. The usual.” He forces himself to stop there. “How about you? Any crazy childhood stories?”

Green looks over at Red, who stares out aimlessly past the trees. Red wets his cracked lips, and speaks after a few hesitant seconds.

“...I ran away once.”

Green raises his eyebrows and waits to see if Red will elaborate, but he doesn't.

“Yeah? For how long?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three _weeks?!_ ” The exclamation finally gets Red to look at him, though Green feels justified in his shock and doesn't deserve the low glare Red's shooting his way. Green sets his gelato cup aside before he has a chance to drop it. “How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

“Ele...geez, Red.” Green drags a hand through his hair, shaking his head. It'd be almost unbelievable if Red weren't so unbelievable in the first place. “Okay, so – where did you go? And why?”

He drops a hand on Red's forearm when he glances away again. “Come on, I told you all about my deep, dark past. Spill up.” The hand squeezes gently. “I won't tell or post it all over the university website.”

Green winks at the exasperated look Red gives him. Of _course_ he wouldn't spread it around, but Green's well aware of his reputation that what he says might not always sound entirely genuine. Red sighs, finally appearing to open up, and Green slides his hand away.

“I wanted...” Red's brow furrows, as though he's conflicted about what he wants to say. “...an adventure.”

“...Ah huh.” The guy's weird enough to give a reason like that. Green swallows down a dozen snarky comments that come up in his head, and forces himself to nod along. “Doing what?”

“Seeing everything.” Red must hear Green's grumble at the vague answer, and quickly clarifies. “Learning about the kind of animals and habitats that are out there. I just packed up and left.”

“So you really _did_ make friends with squirrels.” Green can't hold back that comment, and as expected, Red doesn't seem amused by it. “Okay, so you're eleven and ditch home for a while to live in the woods. And what did you learn when you finally came to what few senses you have and returned home?”

“I could have gone longer.”

Red says it in the most serious tone Green's ever heard out of him. Green bites the inside of his cheek, feeling his stomach churn.

“Are you sure an adventure was what you were looking for?”

Red doesn't respond, and the worst part is that Green can't guess what his answer would be.

 

\---

 

Rolling Red's words in his mind becomes an uncomfortable distraction for the next week. Green feels it's safe to say Red is the type to jump into any situation and commit to it without much reasonable thought beforehand. Go figure, really; Green has to admit he might need someone who shows a little more levelheadedness than he has in the past, but here he is, hanging out with someone who had a literal wild child phase.

Green hunches over his textbooks late at night, rubbing his temples raw as his concentration sinks. Red could leave, at _any_ time, to do whatever he thinks he needs to do. The worst part is that Green can't be sure he could stop him.

It's been two months since the Plan backfired into something strangely functional, and Green can't think of any other previous instance when he had such consistent plans with another person, or spoke so openly without needing to be pushed to, or felt like he wasn't the only one around in this constantly-moving city.

He abandons his barely-completed work and tears through his bag for his phone. Green's not even sure what he'll say, but if he's good at anything, it's the ability to come up with _something_ to say, as ill-advised as that tends to go for him.

By the time he manages to find his phone and open his messages, he sees he doesn't have to.

_im not going anywhere. not anymore_

Green unleashes the relieved sigh he's been holding in his lungs all day, and taps out his response.

_You better not._

At that point, Green realizes he is so utterly and stupidly head over heels.

 

\---

 

“Okay, I give.” He drops his hands on Red's shoulders, hoping this kind of stance makes him look a lot more confident than he's feeling. “You win, _again_. Let's get official and go steady?”

He's going to smack that smug, victorious look right off Red's face one of these days.

“Sure,” says Red. “Does this mean I get free coffee whenever I come in?”

Green changes his mind and instead determines Red very much deserves getting smacked _right now_.

 

\---

 

Apparently, Green's got a boyfriend now. He's glad to know that Red is also content with keeping this bit of news between them for the moment, not seeing the need for any fuss or announcements. The exception is Leaf, who can sniff out any relationship changes in the air with whatever demon powers she has, so Green doesn't give her the chance to try guessing. Other than that, it's their little secret.

Despite their new status, a blissful normalcy continues between them. Red hasn't hinted for cheeky recommendations from his grandfather, or asked about the state of the Oak family's money and if Green can casually pencil his name into the inheritance. He simply seems to like Green for how he is, which he should, because Green's amazing.

The only things Green can't quite pick out are when the last time that hat was washed, and why Red chose _him_.

“Can we make a quick stop?” Red brushes a hand on Green's arm, then points down a side street that Green was avoiding looking towards. “I need to pick up food for Pikachu.”

A quick lunch date somehow turned into errand running, but after a long night of reports and studying, he'll take any excuse to remain outside and away from textbooks. Green's not keen on participating in anything that keeps the rodent thriving, but Red's already several steps ahead down the road. Green stuffs his hands into his pockets, shielding them from the early spring breeze in the air, feigning looking around the street as though the area is unfamiliar.

Red stops in front of Bill's shop, bent at the knees to observe the pets on display at the window. Green drags his heels the last few steps, standing behind Red and keeping his eyes on the pavement.

“You shop here, huh?”

“Yeah. I've known Bill for a long time.” Green gnaws on his tongue, wondering if he's ever seen Red at the store and simply never noticed before. “Oh, I remember this one.”

Green finally brings his gaze up to the brown cat with golden eyes at the window. She notices them and greets with a slow yawn, showing little fangs and a bubblegum pink tongue. The corners of Green's mouth twitch up briefly.

Red bends down to her eye level, smiling in return. “She's beautiful.”

“Yeah...”

It must be a pain to maintain a long coat like that, he thinks, as he watches her stretch out her limbs, but every inch of fur looks shiny and smooth on her. The cat jumps to an upper platform in the cage and curiously sniffs at a mouse toy. Green realizes several seconds too late how long he's been staring, and Red's been watching the entire time.

Red's eyebrows slowly rise. “Do you like her?”

“What? Uh...” He's always lacked a good lying face, though that doesn't stop him from pretending he's got a persuasive one right now. “I was just – you know – looking.”

“Looking.” Well, that didn't sound convinced in the slightest. Red moves closer to the glass until his nose almost touches the window; the cat shifts her amber gaze over to him, then loses interest and begins licking her paw. Red straightens back up with a smile, and oh, Green knows he's in for trouble because he's known Red just long enough to determine what _that_ kind of grin means. “Let's go in and say hi to her.”

“Aren't you supposed to be getting food for your killer rodent? Hey!”

Red's got a hell of a grip when he wants to have one. Green gets yanked into the store by the arm, the bell above the door chiming and announcing their arrival. Red's presumably forgotten his original mission to purchase food for Pikachu, which still works perfectly in Green's favor, and instead searches for the owner.

“Bill?”

“Red!” A man with a messy mop of hair pokes his head out from behind some shelves. Green's seen Bill through the shop windows several times, but never directly in person – the locals' verbal description of him that Green's heard around town is pretty on point. “Here for the usual?”

“Yeah.” Drat, he remembered. Red points behind him toward the window displays. “Can we pet her?”

“Of course, of course. Go ahead and open the cage; you know what to do.”

Green gets yanked once again, this time over to the two-level cat cage at the front of the store. Red lets go so he can undo the door on the top level, carefully sliding it open so that the cage doesn't rattle. They have the cat's attention instantly, who sits upright on her platform and flicks her fluffy tail.

“Eevee...” Red reads from a paper sheet tied to the side of the cage, listing an age, weight, and personality. “Three years old. A little shy but will open up in a calm environment.”

“Yeah,” Green says just for basic conversation, rubbing the back of his neck.

Red steps aside from the cage door. “Go on, pet her.”

Green peels his hand off his neck and slowly reaches out. It takes an encouraging nod from Red to get him to finally reach in all the way, holding his hand a few inches away from the cat and waiting. He feels like he's being stared down and judged on the spot, by a cat of all things, as she sits completely still, save for the twitching of her tail.

Then she moves forward, sniffs his fingertips and rubs them with a cheek. He startles a bit when the cat licks the pad of his thumb, feeling the odd texture of her tongue scrape gently along his skin. It certainly beats being nibbled on by a chinchilla.

“I think she likes you,” says Red.

“How can you tell? You speak Cat, don't you?”

Red ignores the bait and continues watching intently. Green slides his fingers over the top of the cat's head, gives the back of the ears a little rub, then brushes the silky fur on her cheeks. He's not sure exactly what cats like beyond some head scratches, but she seems to be enjoying the attention, eyes starting to leisurely droop shut and head tilting towards Green's palm.

It lasts for less than a minute. Green soon pulls his hand away, snaps the door closed with a rattle, then turns his back to the cage.

“Is that all?” Red quietly asks behind him.

“Yeah. That's all.”

 

\---

 

“It's big,” Red says while doing slow circles in the living room, as though he's lost.

“Bigger than your shoebox of a human cave.”

“My cave is fine.”

Green ensures his vocal scoff is loud enough for Red to hear. He gives Red time to explore the apartment, because it _is_ impressive, and Green takes pride in having some sense of interior decorating. The theme is simple – really just put together with leftovers from his family's house, but Green only took what furniture he needed, and makes the most out of minimal displays. Leaf calls the apartment too empty, but Green's convinced himself he's just fine with it.

“Come on, I'll show you the best part.”

“The fridge?”

“The – what, _no_. God.” Green rubs his forehead, then plasters on a well-practiced smooth smile. “The bedroom.”

Red's lips twitch. “Oh.”

 

\---

 

Incredibly, that line works.

Mostly, at least. Everything Green imagined in his head goes about as expected – the coy kisses, the sliding of hands over clothes, the nervous thrill of revealing inch after inch of skin for the first time – up until Green finds his back slammed against the mattress, wrists following not far behind and pinned next to his head under Red's heated palms.

There's no chance seeing something like that coming when Green's far more occupied with how deeply he's buried into Red, and for a lightweight, the guy seems to rest heavily over his lap. Green stares up at him, startled, observing the trail of sweat down Red's cheek and his dark, narrowed eyes. He squirms his hips up, trying to get some breathing room, but Red only bears down harder in response.

“H-hey,” Green gasps, and lets out a whine when teeth sink into the soft skin of his wrist. The pressure in his stomach tightens, and oh, god, he's going to have marks up and down his arms tomorrow and it's only barely cold enough outside to still wear a long sleeved shirt.

He sucks in air when Red finally eases off, but the hold on his arms remains. Green glances up again, chest heaving and thighs trembling, sensing a terrifying realization that all those jokes about Red being a wild man are coming together a little too literally. Red licks his flushed lips, eyelids drooping low like a sated predator.

“After this,” he says calmly, dropping his hips down with each word, “it's _your_ turn.”

 

\---

 

Green wakes in the morning, turns onto his back to stare up at the ceiling, and starts counting all the times he probably made embarrassing sounds the night before. His options are to either roll with it, or carefully drape his pillow over Red's face and smother him before word of Green Oak's sex noises gets out. Both options seem reasonable.

Red wakes before the latter plan can be fully contemplated, and offers to make cereal. There's no such thing as _making_ cereal, Green points out, but he accepts the offer regardless.

“You have so many kinds of cheese,” Red observes with seemingly half his body in the fridge, long having forgotten his own cereal on the kitchen table. Green would feel more offended at being less interesting than the food in his fridge if the angle didn't give him such a considerate view of Red's backside. That changes when Green notices that Red's stolen a pair of his pajama bottoms to cover said backside. “This really is the best part.”

“You're unbelievable, you know?”

They move to the couch for tea, and Green picks the most caffeinated leaves he has, just to make sure he still isn't dreaming. Considering what he does for employment, making coffee at home is the last thing he wants to do.

“Have you traveled anywhere?”

Green recognizes he's making a face at Red's tea mug, which is filled with probably half of the honey he has in the apartment. “Sure. I went to Kalos for a year.”

“Oh.” Red straightens up suddenly in realization. “Is that why you have so many different kinds of cheese?”

“No. Maybe? Stop that.”

The smell of sugar becomes far more apparent as Red scoots closer on the couch. “That means you're fluent, too, right?”

“ _Oui_.”

The sarcastic tone of the response goes completely over Red. It's probably safe to assume he doesn't know a hint of any other foreign language out there, and Green won't reject the opportunity to sound smart and impressive.

“Why'd you go there?”

“Hmm...” Green stirs the spoon in his own mug. “Guess I wanted to get away for a bit. Not a bad way to kick myself into gear and see what I could really do with myself. There's a lot more out there than you think.”

“Yeah. Yeah, there is.” Red glances away and takes a long gulp of his drink, or more accurately, his honey with a splash of tea. Green chews on his lower lip, then quickly stops when he's reminded how tender it still is from the night before.

“Okay, I gotta ask.” He sets his mug on the coffee table. “So, what was it like? Running away for three weeks? You took some camping gear and just parked out in some cave for a while? Made your own spears and fished from the river?”

Green's been good at not digging into the topic since Red first told him, but the urge to know the gritty details have been gnawing at him for some time. Predictably, Red gives him a small frown over the rim of his mug, shifting uneasily on the sofa cushions. There's no doubt it's a sore subject, but if they're going to keep up this dating thing, Green believes he deserves to know.

“Not...really. Uh...” Red places his mug on the table next to Green's. “I did have some gear. A sleeping bag and supplies, canned food and energy bars...a journal. I took notes on the animals I saw out in the forest.”

“Why?”

“I liked it. It was fun to be out there.”

Green slides a hand down his face. There's not much use in trying to wrap his head around how Red works, but the least he can do is try. “You were the only one out there, right?”

Red glances aside again, eyes distant and mouth in a tight line. Green peers between his fingers, then slowly drops his hand.

“Red?”

“There was someone else out there,” he says in a rush, hands squeezing his thighs. “Other people in the forest.”

“Who?”

“A fur trapper.” Green swallows, feeling his stomach drop. “I saw him do it – he had a whole team there to help him, too. They caught every type of animal in the forest for their fur...and left the rest behind.”

There had been rumors of some unpleasant activities going on in the nearby forests several years ago. Green wasn't at a stage in his life where he cared much for recent events, but he remembers a few mentions of illegal trapping in the news.

“I stopped them.”

“Red, that's _stupid_ –”

“It wasn't.” Red bites back so suddenly that Green finds himself stunned into silence. “Someone had to stop them. I snuck into their campsites and freed all the animals they had in cages.”

Green shakes his head and rubs the bridge of his nose. The entire story is almost too wild to grasp, but Red's wild enough for this to be believable. “Didn't you get caught?”

“The leader saw me at the end, and...” Red eases back against the couch, any tension that was in him mere moments ago now gone. “He let me go.”

“Why?”

“Hmm.” Their shoulders bump, Red's head drooping a bit in thought. “I made him see the good in animals and he decided to stop being a bad guy?”

“Tch, yeah, right.” Green presses his elbow beneath Red's ribs. “You're terrible at convincing.”

“I convinced you.”

 

\---

 

He takes the long way back home after a shift at the cafe, aimlessly crossing parks and streets until he reaches the pet shop.

The brown cat is on display, napping on a small blanket with her tail curled around her body. She perks up when Green stops at the window, eyes wide and pupils dilated as she stares back at him.

He shoves open the shop door hard enough to make the bell on top shrill.

 

\---

 

“I bought a cat.”

“What?”

“I bought. A cat.”

“Oh. Congratulations.”

“It's nothing to congratulate!” Green barks into his phone, pacing around the store as Bill prepares to transfer Eevee to a carrying cage. “You gotta – get down here, I don't care what you're in the middle of, but this is _your_ fault, and you're gonna help me bring everything back to my apartment and set it all up.”

“Alright.” Red sounds awfully cheery there, and smartly hangs up before Green can retort.

 

\---

 

“What am I doing?” Green does another pacing circle between the pet carrier and the food bowls in the kitchen. “I've never owned a pet. I can't even feed a plant. If I had a plant as a pet, it would _die_.”

He thinks Red lets out a hard exhale behind him, trying to keep busy pouring litter into a box in the corner of the living room.

“Cats aren't difficult.” Red steps around Green to fill up the food bowls next. “I'll give you a list to follow.”

“But –”

“You'll be fine.” Green jumps when Red's hand brushes over his forearm, not even seeing the guy come over to him. The cage door to the pet carrier before them is open. “I know you can handle it.”

An auburn nose pokes out from the carrier first, followed by vibrating whiskers and a fluffy paw. The paw retreats for a few seconds, then Eevee finally emerges entirely. Having verified the state of the room, she begins prowling around, hesitantly sniffing every corner and object.

“Is she alright?” Green asks.

“She's just checking out the area. It's normal for a cat when they're in a new home.” Red smiles when Eevee approaches his foot for a quick sniff, then carries on with her exploring. “She'll get used to it in no time.”

“Ah huh...” Green wanders into the kitchen in a daze and decides to break his no-coffee-outside-the-cafe rule.

They sit on the couch and watch Eevee roam. Red's settled for a coffee cup half of the size that Green's decided to go with, and listens to Green ramble on. Green's fully aware he's going to regret drinking in this much caffeine in the middle of the afternoon, but he needs something to remind him he's not dreaming.

“This is driving me nuts, so I wanna know.” He grits his teeth together, checking to ensure they're not rattling from caffeinated spikes of energy. “Why did you come to the coffee shop in the first place?”

Red gives a one-shouldered shrug. “It was getting cold so I thought something from a cafe would be good.”

Green's eyes narrow. “You ordered an iced drink when you first came in.”

“Oh, yeah...” Red looks aside and scratches his cheek. Apparently Red doesn't have a great lying face either. “I didn't know you worked at the cafe. I went in on my own. But I saw you around before then.”

“Really?” Green rests his mug on his leg, wondering how he never bothered to ask about this before. He felt safe to assume that Red was smitten at first sight by a hot barista and took the opportunity when he scored a phone number on his cup. “Where?”

“I saw you standing in front of Bill's shop a lot.” Red looks over at Eevee, who's preoccupied rubbing every chair and table leg with her cheeks. “You always stopped when she was at the window.”

Green sets his cup aside, feeling plenty awake now, and shakes his head. A secret admirer watching from afar seems too quaint.

“I never saw you.”

“You never came inside or looked past her.”

Which is true, so Green's not going to argue that. Instead, he shoots Red a smirk and a wink. “So, you saw me a few times and thought I looked dashing, yeah?”

There's only one way to respond to that in his mind, even though he's fairly certain Red won't blurt out compliments and high praises so casually. Red stares into his mug instead of Green, letting several seconds pass before answering.

“You looked...lonely.”

 

\---

 

Green taps the tip of his pencil against his school papers, attempting to read over his work for a fifth time. Spring exams are mere days away, and the very thought rests like a hundred bricks on his shoulders. Leaf's messaged him several times, offering some last-minute cram sessions, because she knows how Green is stupid and stubborn and won't say when he needs help or needs so much more from what he already has. Leaf knows this, but doesn't understand how deeply it runs.

Red understands this precisely. Red found him out, and all Green could do was ask him to finish his drink and leave.

It's been a week since their last correspondence. Presumably, Red is also stuck in studying hell for his own courses, and Green's not ready to admit to himself that the real reason for their mutual silence is because he pushed Red away for calling out his secret.

Green also won't say he just wants to be alone right now.

The graphite breaks and streaks across his notepad when something brushes against his leg. Green startles and presses his ankles together, glancing under the table to see what the source is – his new cat, sitting at his feet and staring up at him attentively with her golden eyes.

Green squirms in his seat. “Uh, hey.”

The cat makes a throaty rumble and leaps up suddenly, landing perfectly in Green's lap. Eevee circles around twice, then lays down once she's found the perfect position. Vibrating purrs make her whiskers buzz, and Green can feel them through her belly and the material of his jeans.

He strokes her back with one hand, and continues working with the other. To his surprise, Eevee stays with him all night.

 

\---

 

He's just about at wit's end by the end of the second week. Green has more discipline than he expected of himself by still focusing on getting exams out of the way first, then chasing down his weird squirrel-saving boyfriend who can see through all the layers that Green's allowed to grow on him after so many years. He slaps down his final morning test on his professor's desk, then bolts out of the building and over to the far end of the campus.

Blindly running through the veterinary science building quickly emerges as a bad idea, not just because Green finds himself terribly lost between empty hallways, but from the realization that Red could also be in the middle of spring tests and Green could be two steps away from barging into a classroom and making quite the fool of himself in front of several dozen students.

Green pauses in his running to press his heated forehead against a wall, and quietly accepts that he would deserve nothing less than crawling towards Red before multiple other people and begging to be taken back despite what a lame sap he is.

He also accepts he should have paid a fraction of attention the one time he walked with Red to his building, at least to which floor Red said his lab was located.

The sudden cry of the hallway clocks signaling noon jolts him out of his internal moping. Students begin pouring out of various rooms, some chatting about exams and others dragging their feet in post-test fatigue. Green stands on his toes to look over the crowds, hoping for the off-chance that Red's somewhere within this group.

No messy dark hair or ratty hat pops up, so Green nudges his way downstairs as the crowd empties outside. There's only a handful of students left lingering in the halls, making the entire building seem hollow. Green leans against a wall, feeling his knees and ribs and so much more ache all at once.

He jumps again when a door up ahead opens, followed by Red exiting a classroom. He's looking down and tucking some papers into his bag, too occupied to do a full span of the hallway and find Green looking desperate several feet behind him.

Green trips over his legs when he breaks into a run once again. He reaches out, fingers grazing across Red's arm before he's able to grab on fully. It's not the wisest way to get Red's attention, and Green almost tumbles over as he skids to a halt, shoes screeching across the floor and shoulder bumping into Red's.

Red startles at the sudden grab and yanks his arm away. Green allows it and instead drops his hands to his knees, gasping for breath from several rounds up and down the stairs catching up to him. Somehow being _this_ out of shape feels less dignified than possibly interrupting an entire classroom in the middle of testing.

“Green?” Red clutches onto the strap of his book bag. “What are you doing here?”

“I've been – hold on...” Green heaves a breath and wipes a hand across his face, praying he doesn't look like such the sweaty mess he feels like. “...been looking for you all morning!”

“You have?”

“Yes!” Green might be willing to admit that came out as a near-shriek, his fingers raised and curled like they're about to throttle Red's neck at any moment. The remaining students in the hallway nervously glance over, then wisely make their way out of the building. Despite the outcry, Red can only tilt his head as though he's confused.

“Why didn't you text me?”

Green pauses, hands still raised mid-air.

“...I don't know.”

They stare at each other in silence for several seconds. Green drops his arms and shifts on his feet, eyes shifting around to ensure no one else is witnessing him being a total moron. Thankfully, Red appears just as perplexed at their peculiar state of affairs, and also squirms in place.

“Okay.” Green raises his hands again, this time in defense instead of murderous urges. “I totally get it if you're pissed at me, because what I did wasn't cool, but _yes_ , I've been looking for you because somehow _not_ having your crazy head around is driving me crazier. What, did you think that no one would _want_ to look for you?”

Red stares at his shoes and falls silent again, his mouth pressing into an uneasy frown. Green suddenly feels like they're back at his apartment, watching helplessly as ancient secrets unexpectedly surface, but this time, their roles are reversed.

Green rubs his eyes, feeling drained and exposed. “Geez, Red...”

“Sorry,” Red finally says quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well...” Green gently bumps their foreheads together. “I'm in this too deep to let you go. Idiot.”

 

\---

 

Green attempts to cook, kind of, and Red offers to help chop vegetables, only because that takes less effort than the cooking process itself. It's difficult to mess up spaghetti and Green humbly thinks he does a fine job at it. The apartment bustles with activity, and he's just now getting used to watching his footing so he doesn't trip over Eevee, who likes to observe him at his feet.

Red eats about half of the cheese in his fridge, but promises to go shopping with Green tomorrow to replace them – or more accurately, pick out kinds for Green to buy and not chip in a cent, but that's alright, because Green won't be on his own in the store. They put away dishes and jump into the shower together, turning the water hot and allowing the spray to melt away the day.

Later that night, Green pulls back the bed covers and slides in next to Red. Eevee is already curled up in her usual spot in the middle of the bed, tail curved over her belly and twitching at the tip. Red's eyes slowly dip closed, a warm exhale escaping his lips. 

“I didn't think anyone would want to look for me.”

Green pauses, sitting upright and holding onto the covers, then eases onto his back once it's clear Red has nothing more to say. He stares up at the dark ceiling, hands anxiously gripping onto each other as he finds the courage to speak in ways he never wanted to before.

“I think I do have a secret.”

Red rolls around under the sheets to face him. Eevee mewls and stretches out her hind legs between them. Virdian hums quietly through the bedroom window, a distant but comfortable presence in the background.

“I was lonely the entire time.”

Red slides a hand along his chest, searching for Green's twisting fingers. Green unravels his hands and holds onto Red's, pressing it over where his heart softly beats.

“But not anymore.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”


End file.
